


The Inner Make Out Monologue: Part Deux

by hjbaltimore



Series: The Inner Monologue Menagerie [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-09
Updated: 2014-04-09
Packaged: 2018-01-18 17:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1437274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hjbaltimore/pseuds/hjbaltimore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Where did Cas get off, being this confident? He’d only had sex like once, twice in his entire existence. But damn, if that didn’t feel good. That wonderful, blissful ache sped through his body again. It wasn't fair. Everyone should be awkward and terrible at this until at least their 5th or 6th time.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Dean and Cas pick up where they left off last night, and decide this time there should be sex involved. They both think too much, but it's not always a bad thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inner Make Out Monologue: Part Deux

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for sexual content, shifting perspectives, gratuitous French, mushy emotions, and existential crises ignored for the sake of getting laid.

Cuddling was always so much nicer in theory.

 

In reality, Dean’s hand was falling asleep with Cas’ head resting in the crook of his arm. And he had to itch his crotch. And he was overheating. And he had a boner.

 

Who’s fucking stupid idea was it to fall asleep spooning like this?

 

He recalled people in situations like this with their cats (minus the boner, hopefully); like you wanted or needed to move but somehow this annoying yet adorable creature has decided to rest on you, and the idea of moving them would be a crime against nature.

 

Thankfully Cas was _not_ a cat. Dean hated cats. And might be allergic to them. Though really he couldn't remember whether he had just made that up to piss off Sam to the point where he believed his own lies through the sheer power of his own suggestion, or if it was real. Amazingly enough, details like that get lost over a period of 70 years or so. Did Hell years count? Hell years counted. Memory-wise, anyway.

 

Castiel shifted in his sleep, rubbing his ass against Dean. He made a “why me” expression to the ceiling. He almost wished someone was following him around with a camera so he could stare incredulously into it, letting everyone know of his first-world pains.

 

After nearly ten minutes he’d managed to slide his arm carefully away. It had that awful pins and needles feeling to it. He slowly hopped off the bed, praying it wouldn’t creak and wake up Mr. Comatose.

 

“Ah fuck.” He shook his arm a bit before simply letting it fall to his side. It was only six AM, and was for some reason he already starving.

 

Castiel was sleeping on his stomach now that Dean wasn't propping him up; boxers twisted up and exposing just a little bit of buttcheek that Dean realized he’d been groggily fixated on for the past five minutes while leaning on the motel mini fridge. Naturally, all that was inside said mini fridge was a couple of unfinished beer bottles. His stomach growled angrily six or seven times before he decided he didn't want to wait for Cas to wake up on his own.

 

“Cas. CAS! Cas, what do you want for breakfast?”

 

“Mhmmm…”

 

“I can’t  hear you man.”

 

“Whatvyocnfeedmnbed…”

 

“What?”  
  
“Anything that doesn’t require me getting up.”

 

“Tch. Lazy ass.”

 

Castiel sighed and stretched. “I don’t mind sleeping. It’s pretty enjoyable for base need. I really dislike waking up though.”

 

“How come?”

 

“I feel too vulnerable, disoriented. I need to be able to skip straight to full consciousness.”

 

“That’s called ‘panic mode’ and trust me, I’d rather have the luxury of staying groggy for a few minutes than that every day.”

 

Cas gave a stupid, cute, toothy grin. His hair was sticking straight up, the old t-shirt he wore as pj's were just a little too big, there was a pressure mark on his cheek from one of the blankets...

 

Fuck.

 

Dean weighed his options. Either way, they had to get this show on the road.

 

“No one ever said you couldn’t go back to bed after breakfast.”

 

“I’ll be too awake.”

 

“Well, there’s something we could do to tire us out. Assuming we’ve eaten first…”

 

Castiel amazingly found some secret energy reserves at that.

  


\---

 

Kissing, according to the Dean Winchester philosophy, was impossible to screw up. If the other person was experienced, then it just made things easier. If they didn’t kiss right? You got to teach them how and show off.

 

Cas tilted his head a little and closed his eyes. It was gentle at first, just a quick touch of their lips together. In the movies, awkward squelches and smacking and spitting and whatever other sounds came from making-out were muted in favor of cheesy romantic background music. In real life with no magic soundtrack Dean felt grounded, something that was hard to come by lately for him. Benny had once told him that this world didn’t feel real, and he couldn’t disagree. It was fine to let yourself go numb when you had his and Sam’s job, but too long like that and life just felt like one long nightmare. It was a dangerous mindset to have, and he knew deep down it's why Benny stayed behind.

 

Dean wormed his tongue into Cas’s mouth gently, humming and stroking his hair. Cas kissed back, and they started frenching each other like high schoolers waiting to get caught by a teacher. He tried to pull back a little, let Cas know to slow down a little, when the little fucker pushed him down on the sheets, sucking along Dean’s neck with frantic breathes.

 

Where did Cas get off, being this confident? He’d only had sex like once, twice in his entire existence. But damn, if that didn’t feel good. That wonderful, blissful ache sped through his body again.

 

It wasn't fair. Everyone should be awkward and terrible at this until at least their 5th or 6th time.

 

Well, he couldn’t be angry even if he wanted, because Cas was all over him, pushing him around like he was made of clay, molding him into whatever position suited him that millisecond. Dean especially hated the fact that, despite never relaying this little fact out loud to Castiel, he seemed to know that Dean’s favorite part of foreplay the was kissing.

 

Cas slipped through Dean’s underwear, brushing past his dick and grabbing his ass. Dean gave something between a grunt and a moan.

 

“Little quick to be getting to third base already, don’t you think?”

 

“I don’t know what that means, Dean,” he huffed

 

“It means you’re a grabby SOB.” He pushed back a little.  "Shouldn’t I be giving you like, the sex talk first or something?” he asked, forcing a laugh. Castiel stopped and gave him that weird squinty look he always had when confused. It reminded Dean of an angry puppy.

 

He rubbed his neck. “I don’t know, I think we’re moving too fast. Like you know I don’t have a vagina or anything right?”

 

He stopped moving,  hunched over Dean who was propping himself up on his elbows. “Dean I am not a child, I know how human sex works. I know how all living species that have ever existed reproduce and believe me, yours is neither the most complex nor the most entertaining. I don’t need your instructions.”

 

“Well now you just sound creepy, dude.”

 

“There was a Cambrian animal, only a couple centimeters long, didn’t have any sex organs humans would recognize,” he said, matter-of-factly, ”what would happen is they would use pebbles to-”

 

Dean rolled his so heavily he thought they might fall out of their sockets. “Cas that’s not even _close_ to being relevant to our situation here. I don’t want to hear about fossil sex, okay? I’m just not… you know, or whatever...”

 

His whole body froze looking into Castiel’s eyes, which were filling with emotions ranging from confused to insulted before Dean could stop himself. God fucking shit of ever living- fuck! He did it. He fucking did it. He blew it. He couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut and now Castiel thinks he neither wants sex nor his overly enthusiastic prehistoric reproduction lesson.

 

“Agh! That’s not what I meant- I mean… I just fucking…”

 

He rubbed the back of his neck again. The mood was slipping away fast at this point, and he couldn’t find the right words. Sam would’ve known what to say. Or not. He neither knew nor wanted to know how his brother did the deed, but assuming that college education did anything, it had to have given him words to explain concepts like, “hey buddy, I’m digging your style but you need to slow down but not too much like it feels good but this seems less fun than it should we need to sync our timing together before the mood dies”. Dean sighed. For lack of a better idea, he pulled Cas’ head gently towards him so that their foreheads touched.

 

“I’m sorry Cas, I’m not trying to treat you like a kid or anything. But all this? It’s making me more nervous than I should be.”

 

“We could stop-”

 

“No! God no. Just talk to me, okay? You know all the right buttons but, and I can’t stress this enough, communication is _100% essential_. Otherwise the whole thing is awkward at best, and rape-y at worst, alright?”

 

Cas didn’t say anything. He looked unsure of what to do, not wanting to disappoint the man in front of him. Dean had become intimately aware of the awkward and increasingly painful position they had stopped in. His arms were ready to give out, and without a word he pushed back Castiel and sat up straight. He cracked his neck and made himself flush with Castiel’s chest, grinding a little as he slid his way on top, pushing the Cas down on the sheets.

 

Well, Cas flipped him back over like two seconds later, but he tried.

Their lips found each other again, but more slowly. Gasps for air and the soft creaking of the ancient box spring overshadowed any noise from outside. Castiel felt his mind clouding over, body becoming weightless. He wanted to anchor himself, hands lingering over Dean's arms, not sure of where to settle. He stopped at Dean's chest, fingers splayed over his torso. It was firm, scarred, and dusted with barely visible light blond hairs. Castiel kissed his left pec.

 

“Dean, you are quite beautiful, you know,” he said, meeting eye to eye with an intense gaze that made Dean want to blink twice as much for the both of them.

 

“Geez Cas, you can't just come out and say that shit,” he mumbled, shifting away slightly.

 

“Why not? Apri- I mean, I’ve known others who appreciated that sort of directness. What am I suppose to do instead?” He asked despondently. 

 

“I don’t know… try talking dirty.”

 

Cas thought for a moment before leaning in close to Dean’s ear. He nibbled a little at his earlobe; deep, shallow breath gave Dean goosebumps. He put his lips to his ear and whispered, “I like your penis.”

 

“Jesus fuck, Cas!”

 

Castiel laughed, really laughed, like Dean hadn’t seen since… he didn’t know when. But it was an incredible sight to see, and he unconsciously grinned himself.

 

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

 

“No you’re not!”

 

“No, I suppose not. I couldn't think of anything to say.”

 

“Man, you suck.”

 

“If you wish.”

 

“Did you…” Dean scowled. “Just get a move on! You’re killing me, dude.”

 

Castiel didn’t move, and Dean once again moved their heads together, ghosting over Cas’ lips, massaging behind his ear with his thumb.

 

Now that breathing was, well, _necessary_ for him, Castiel became suddenly aware he must having been doing it too fast. He felt very light headed, and the ache in his chest and groin only made it worse. He was torn between wanting touch every part of Dean, and passing out on top of him.

 

He opted for the former, lowering his body and rubbing up against Dean’s dick with his own, one hand now tangled in his dirty blonde hair, the other holding their shafts together. He could swear there was an an electric current flowing over his spine.

 

Of course, at the same time, Cas couldn’t help but compare experiences in the back of his head. With April, they did it twice. The second time wasn't as much fun as the first. It took longer, and he felt as though by the end she was left disappointed by his lack of stamina. He really wished the reaper hadn't forced them to kill her. He owed so much more for her kindness.

 

Before that mess was Meg. It never involved any intimate touching or penetration, but their “relationship”, or whatever it could’ve been called, was something that sat guiltily on the edges of his new-found human fantasies. 

 

But now, right in front of him was Dean. Physically and emotionally connected to him, the full package. First impressions were, he had to admit, weird. Not the situation, the sensation of touching another man that was not his own vessel was a surreal, wonderful experience.

 

“Hey, Cas, don’t blank out on me,” he panted.

 

He moved a little faster. “Sorry… I got distra-”

 

Dean once again took charged and pulled them together for a deep kiss. He was seeing stars. They accidentally bumped their teeth against one another, and Castiel supposed any other time that would have hurt or been awkward, but he stopped giving any fucks about 5 minutes ago. The ability to feel anything other than pleasure had died along with any reservations he had about doing this in the first place.

 

They were grinding now, not even bothering with hands, and Dean sighed into Cas’ mouth. He tasted subtly like mint, and Dean had a suspicious feeling Cas was going to end up being one of weirdos who brushes their teeth 10 times a day.

 

Of course, it wasn't just that. There’s something about being with someone you’re actually connected too. He wanted touch, taste every part of him. He wrapped his arms around Cas’ neck and sucked at the collarbone, determined to leave a hickey. The back muscles were incredible, solid flesh stretched with each thrust forward. He couldn’t help it, and reaching what he could, grabbed at every part of Castiel’s back he could reach.

 

“‘s good, Cas. Don’t stop,” he slurred.

 

“Dean,” Castiel struggled, “my leg is cramping up.”

 

 _Fuck!_ He huffed, motioning him to stop. Figures. It was just getting really good.

 

“Hey, get up and lay on your back.”

 

“But…”

 

“You’re such a baby. Move.”

 

Cas was laying there, with the pissed off expression of a goddamn 3 year old who was told to stop eating cookies.

 

“Hey, you’re the one who said he was cramping up.”

 

“I could’ve kept going.”

 

“Then why did you say anything? Agh, don’t answer that. Just hold still, I’m wanna do something.”

 

He sat up on his legs, and gave dick a few slow tugs. He hadn't done anything like this fucking  _ages._ He did get live one of his fantasies recently, so to speak, sleeping with his porn star crush. Like, it was a huge crush. Of course, once they had started to go at it, all his did was eat her out. He was living a dream and… panicked. It counted enough for Vesta anyway, and Suzy was satisfied enough, but now tried not to even think about it. He had told her not to worry about her porn past, and it felt like a noble thing at the time, but now he just felt like he came on as a sleazy douchebag fixing a problem that wasn't there. Or maybe that wasn't it. Maybe the idea of going all the way with a girl who’d given a vow of chastity and willing to break it _just for him_ didn’t sit in the realm of “oh yeah, this definitely feels real”.  

 

_This is real. It's the only way to play this game._

 

He wondered it that’s how Sam felt during the whole breaking-down-the mental-Hell-wall fiasco.

 

Wait. Shit. **No.** He was _not_ having this existential crisis now. He was about to finally get laid for the first time in forever, this was _not_ happening now. Even if it was breaking 5 dozen… million sins, jerking off over top an angel. He was going to have to panic about the moral implications later (if there were any because really, why should something this good be bad, angel or no angel?).

 

Dean was breathing slow and heavy, audible exhales mixed with moans he purposefully exaggerated. He made small, tight circles around the head, jerking his hips in rhythm while Castiel watched with a kind of hypnotic concentration.  

 

“Is this how you normally touch yourself, Dean?”

 

“You aren’t still trying to talk dirty, are you?”

 

“No, I want to know. ‘For reference’,” he added, using air quotes.

 

Dean snorted. “Nah, I’m just putting on show. Jerk off too, don’t torture yourself.”

 

He fumbled for a minute, too busy watching Dean to get a good rhythm going.

 

“Shit, Cas.” It reminded Dean of his short year with Lisa. Of all the people to do it with, she’d been the most fun, twisting them into every position humanly possible. Or, on days where they felt their ages catching up with them, forcing Dean to sit back, watch, and keep his hands still while she played with herself (or if he gave in before she said ‘go’, dish duty for three days).

 

Well, really this reminded him of the times he couldn’t wait. He slipped down and kissed his way up Castiel’s leg, not letting go of himself all the while.

 

Cas had a very specific, dizzying scent. Well, so did Sam, but he had a gross snot nosed little brother odor. Cas made him want to cum right then and there. Dean closed his eyes and sighed contently against Cas’ thigh.

 

“Cas, move your hand. I want to suck you off,” he mumbled.

 

Castiel let his arms fall to his side, smooth chest heaving up and down. “Okay.”

 

It was just barely a whisper, and Dean smiled and teased him with the tip of his tongue, tiny flick here and there eliciting small (slightly aggravated) gasps.

 

“Dean… do not… tease me… I’m a warrior of God… you’re mocking me…” he half-heartedly threatened.

 

“Shhh… it’ll be worth it, just hang on a minute.”

 

He took the tip, and slowly made his way down Cas’ dick as far as he could without gagging. Granted, that was only two or three inches, but whatever. He never claimed to be a pro at this sort of thing, and Castiel was more than satisfied. His eyes rolled back, lips plump from kissing parted for shallow, shuddering breaths. A hand found it’s way to Dean’s hair, damp with perspiration, and rain their fingers through, hovering around the back of his neck. Dean stroked himself faster.

 

“Dean, I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier. The same is true for me you know. I need you too. I think I need you more than anything else-”

 

Dean moaned. Leatherface could have come bursting in, chainsaw revving and he was still 95% certain he wouldn’t be able to stop. He was too damn close. He let go of Castiel’s dick, rested his head on his chest and came between both their legs.

 

“I wanted to finish you off…”

 

Dean forced out an exhausted laugh. “You can just owe me for next time around,” he panted. “For now, lets finish you up. I’m about to collapse on you.”

 

Cas grabbed Dean’s hand and guided it, jerking himself off with Dean as they went in for one more kiss. He moaned into Dean’s mouth, and not two minutes later, were collapsed on the mattress; limbs like jelly, tangled together in a twisted mess of bedsheets.

 

\---

Castiel was still butt naked, refusing to leave the warmth of his four blankets for petty human things like “hunger”. Lunch would either have to be served to him in bed or skipped altogether. Dean was on the unused motel bed lacing up a pair of mud caked boots, with claw marks on the side that let in water if he didn’t avoid puddles.

 

“Hey,” Dean said, back turned to Castiel, “Can we… not tell Sam about all this?”

 

Cas was lying flat on the bed, and just barely turned his neck enough to catch Dean out of the corner of his eye. “I wasn't planning to say anything, really, but why?”

 

“I just, I don’t know. It’s none of his business,” he mumbled, getting quieter with each word.

 

“He wouldn’t judge you Dean. He probably wouldn’t care that much unless you emphasized its importance. Sam is not necessarily a prejudicial man when it comes to these things.”

 

“Yeah I know, I know. It just… I… there's nothing wrong with any of this. But I’ve never told… and you know my dad… I mean even he wouldn’t have… I took on the devil and this… agh-” Dean shook his head. “Never mind I’m just being stupid. It doesn’t matter. We got more important things to worry about...”

Castiel finally found the willpower to get up, and sat himself next to Dean who was angrily staring at his boot laces that he'd now failed to tie correctly for the third time.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Dean.”

 

“I mean it’s not that I particularly care one way or the other, I just don’t want to talk about it, you know?”

 

“Well, no, not really,” he admitted bluntly, “But we are friends Dean.

 

All you ever have to do is ask.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I only proofread it twice so there a lot of little mistakes I'll fix in the future. Let me know if you spot them.
> 
> *I think I fixed everything. Hit me up with suggestions, requests, awe filled praise, philosophical inquiries, cookie recipes, credit card numbers, letters of recommendation, hatemail, job offers, or alert me to more errors if you spot them in the comments. Don't be shy, I'm already shy. We can't both be shy.


End file.
